Running on Ice
by KuryakinGirl
Summary: Where did my life go wrong? Sam reflects on his campaign.


Disclaimer-Characters belong to Aaron Sorkin. The song, to Billy Joel. No copyright infringement intended. Any similarities to events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.  
  
Author's Notes-To Jenni... this isn't the sappy fic you were wanting. But hang in there. To my wonderful beta, Ms. Dis, with a dedication to keeping Sam and Mal alive.  
  
Spoilers-Through Red Haven's on Fire  
  
Archive-Lemme know where, thanks.  
  
Feedback-Always greatly appreciated.  
  
Running on Ice-Where did my life go wrong?  
  
There's a lot of tension in this town I know it's building up inside of me I've got all the symptoms and side effects Of city life anxiety  
  
I make my way through the crowd. Before I can make a phone call, I have to talk to someone. I have to apologize. She wanted a Democrat.  
  
All she got was me.  
  
"Kay..." I say gently. She's been hanging out in my office most of the night. It's been quieter, a little more peaceful than the hustle- bustle of the main office, where everyone was trying to figure out the exit polls, the actual tally numbers.  
  
"Sam."  
  
"I am so sorry."  
  
She shakes her head, holding up a frail hand. "You did what you could."  
  
"I could've done so much more..."  
  
"I'm proud of you. Horton would've been proud of you."  
  
That I can't believe. Not at all. I was sided with big business... I was told that, with the aid of the President we both love, I looked like a staffer. It's been a comedy of errors, from start to finish.  
  
"And besides," she says. "You'll get 'em next time."  
  
I smile a little. Next time? There won't be a next time. Not until Chuck Webb decides he's done in the California 47th. And I doubt that'll be anytime soon. "Yes, ma'am."  
  
She opens her arms to me, and I step in for a hug. "You'll get 'em," she repeats.  
  
"I have to go congratulate the Congressman," I say, pulling back.  
  
"Give him my best, too."  
  
"Yes, ma'am," I say, managing a small smile.  
  
She squeezes my hand and then steps out, leaving me the office. And leaving me to make one of the hardest calls I think I've ever had to make.  
  
I could never understand why the urban attitude Is so superior In a world of high rise ambition Most people's motives are ulterior  
  
I can hear the cheering of his campaign staffers over the phone. Of course, I wound up going through a giddy staffer to get to the Congressman himself. The difference is... startling. Between the winner's camp and that of the loser.  
  
My concession.  
  
Brings to mind something I should do at a home high school football game, not... what you do after the end of a bizarre roller coaster campaign.  
  
"Sam." I can hear the smile in his voice.  
  
I failed Horton. "Good evening, Congressman."  
  
"It was a great ride, Sam."  
  
"It was, Congressman. I wanted to give you my congratulations, and that of Kay Wilde."  
  
"How is she?"  
  
"She's just fine, Congressman. I'll tell her you asked."  
  
"Do that. Tell me, Sam, what's next for you?"  
  
"I'm not sure yet, Congressman."  
  
"Well, I'm sure you'll find something, Sam. I'm sure the President will take you back."  
  
"I'm sure he would, sir."  
  
"I think we both have to go give speeches."  
  
"We do."  
  
"Best of luck to you, Sam."  
  
"And to you, too, Congressman."  
  
"C'mon. You're a young buck still. Let an old man keep his office. I can't possibly stay here forever."  
  
I allow myself to smile slightly. "I'm not upset I lost, sir." I'm upset for a thousand other things, but not about me. This isn't about me. Not at all. I wasn't a candidate in this race. I was a stand-in. And I let other people run it for me.  
  
"It's usually better if you let the anger out, Sam."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind, Congressman." The last thing I need right now is a Republican psychoanalyzing me. "Take care, sir."  
  
"You, too. I'm sure we'll see each other around."  
  
"I'm sure," I agree before ending the call.  
  
Sometimes I feel as though I'm running on ice Paying the price too long Kind of get the feeling that I'm running on ice Where did my life go wrong?  
  
The speech went by in a blur. I remember writing them myself yesterday. I have vague recollections of standing up and saying it, but... it's more like snapshots. Probably thanks to the flashbulbs going off in my eyes as I recited it. I didn't take questions. I couldn't think clearly, not then. I had plenty of questions in my own mind, probably most of the ones the reporters were thinking of, too.  
  
Probably first and foremost, what Webb asked: What now?  
  
If I run again...  
  
The answer to "what now" rests on whether or not I plan on running again. On if I want to jump in and do all this over again.  
  
But, let's say, somehow, I decide that yes, I want to try this again. I want to leave another Sam Seaborn sized hole in the California 47th electorate history. That means... I can't go back to D.C. It'll look like I'm using the 47th, it'll look like I'm really a Presidential staffer and nobody'll vote for me. To even have half a chance, I'm going to need to start establishing myself as a credible Orange County resident. I should buy a house, not rent one. Get everything changed over from D.C. I still have an apartment there... I'll need to clear it out, move... Dear God, move all of my stuff across country. Again. The last time I did that, I was 18 and had, y'know, two suitcases and an umbrella. I think I'll be making a few trips by Goodwill before I head back out here. I'll probably have to drive... one of those you-drive-it trucks. Cross-country. Probably alone. Just me. My stuff. And hopefully a radio that works.  
  
Plus, if I gamble a second time and lose, heaven forbid, in the primary... that's it, thank you for playing our game, enjoy our lovely parting gifts... which will be a great big ole "don't run for anything else again" lecture, more than likely, from party faithful. If I run again and make it through the primary... and I get to the general... and I'm up against Webb... it'll look like a rematch, it'll look like bad blood, and then again it's thank you for playing our game.  
  
And what an awful game that could be.  
  
But, that's if I run. If I don't run... All I'll have to do is clear out the rental house and fly back, saying goodbye to Orange County again. Probably with two suitcases and an umbrella, actually. If I don't run, I can go back to the White House. As senior counselor. I go away, I get a promotion. Imagine that. Seems slightly backwards, but, in my life, what isn't? It's a slightly better shot at getting in that room... but only for four years. Two years where we can really operate and function. And in two years, I might be in "that room" in my own way if I try this again and pull off a miracle. Again. That's... if I pull off a miracle which, obviously, I didn't this go round and I might not be able to again.  
  
I'm a cosmopolitan sophisticate Of culture and intelligence The culmination of technology And civilized experience  
  
I can't think here anymore. People are taking mementos, taking pictures... I'm tired of this. I'm tired and I don't think I can sit here. I don't mind that they want to have something to remember this by. For several of the workers, this was their first campaign... sorta, I mean, Wilde was first, but then it sorta degenerated into Seaborn for Congress and grab the last of the tee shirts while you can. I can guarantee you that I will not want to see another one in the next month at least. No rally signs, no buttons, no stickers, no pencils... nothing.  
  
There's someone I should apologize to. There's someone who should hear it from me, personally, that I screwed up and that I'm so sorry...  
  
And that requires a road trip.  
  
I grab my suit jacket and head out of the campaign, waving a goodbye at the staffers and volunteers. I might be back later tonight, to make sure everything's locked up. I'll at least give Scott a call to make sure. 'Course I'll need to come back for the rental car, but... who knows, maybe I'll put that off until tomorrow. I don't feel like driving. Mostly because I'm so distracted heaven knows I would wind up in an accident. I'm fairly safe walking, although some might beg to differ with my history of accident proneness.  
  
It's a few miles to get there, a few miles to gather my thoughts. What am I going to say? How am I going to adequately put into words the anguish and the pain... How am I ever going to forgive myself?  
  
What do I start with? An apology? An excuse? There are none. I let this whole thing get away from me and so it's all my fault, plain and simple. I let the vision get muddied. I let the vision get bastardized.  
  
I let him down.  
  
I reach my destination but I can't feel fatigue in my legs. Mind over matter there, I suppose. The wheels and gears in my head were turning far too fast with far too much steam and smoke and simply out-paced my legs. I feel fatigue everywhere else though; that's the price you pay for a campaign. A dull ache that permeates you. A sort of nagging feeling at the back of your mind. But, no matter now. I'm here. I'm at the marble slab that bears the name of the man who should've been in Congress.  
  
"I failed. I failed so miserably. And I've tried so hard. This district is important to me, Horton, and I hope you understand that. I got laughed at, essentially, when you were still alive and I was trying to make sure you were taken care of as best as the DNC and the President could take care of you. I wanted the Democratic candidate to be in tip-top fighting condition to take on Chuck Webb. You were. I wasn't. I wasn't ready for this. I did something I should never have done. I doubted my own instincts. I doubted you. I told Kay that I'd run in your place should you win when I didn't believe you'd do it. I didn't believe you'd actually pull off a coup, one of the biggest coups of the election season. I was so stupid. I'm not sure if it was bravado or cockiness or brashness or... what. It was most definitely idiocy mixed with whatever else when I said I'd step in. Kay Wilde wanted a Democrat. I am a Democrat, Horton. My campaign manager was anything but. Siding me with business... I couldn't tell him no, not for lack of trying. I couldn't fire him. The DNC wanted him, this young up-and-coming savior of the Democratic Party. I guess the one *good* thing I can say about this whole experience is that, now that I've gone down, he has, too. You won, Horton. You won and he ruined that. At some point tonight I need to call Will Bailey, too. He should've been here. Of course... Toby needed him at the White House. We can't be everywhere at once, no matter how hard we want to, no matter how hard we try. I tried so hard..."  
  
"Sam?"  
  
I jump. A voice from beyond the grave?  
  
"Sam..."  
  
It speaks again, and I turn slowly.  
  
I know that voice... "Mallory."  
  
But I'm carrying the weight of all the useless junk That modern man accumulates I'm a statistic in a system That a civil servant dominates  
  
"Hi," she says, smiling at me.  
  
"How did you...?"  
  
"Flight six-ten from National to LAX. Then I rented a car." She's still smiling.  
  
"No, I meant... Well... Okay, I guess I did, but more... why?"  
  
"I tried to be here earlier. I wanted to be here in time for the poll closings, but I had a layover in Dallas and got stuck." She frowns slightly. "But I'm here now."  
  
"Why?" I repeat.  
  
"Because I wanted to be."  
  
"You wanted to be."  
  
"Why is that so hard to understand, Skipper?"  
  
"I don't know, I just..."  
  
"You're overwhelmed."  
  
I nod. "Yeah, that's..."  
  
She crosses to me and I'm just... still trying to make sure that she's not some sort of apparition, that she's actually here...  
  
"I'm not a ghost, Skipper."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Fairly," she acknowledges with a nod.  
  
"Okay..."  
  
"Sam... Smile?"  
  
"I let him down."  
  
"You didn't let him down. You got suckered by Scott Holcomb and the DNC."  
  
"That makes it any better?"  
  
"It wasn't in your control. None of this was."  
  
"I wanted it to be," I say quietly.  
  
"You didn't have that choice."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because it wasn't in the cards this time."  
  
"The cards can be wrong sometimes..."  
  
"Not here." She shakes here head.  
  
"They could've been..."  
  
"But they weren't."  
  
"Where did I go wrong, Mal?"  
  
And all that means is that I'm running on ice Caught in a vice so strong I'm slipping and sliding, 'cause I'm running on ice Where did my life go wrong?  
  
"Just because it didn't happen now doesn't mean it won't happen ever."  
  
"It might," I say, looking up at her in all seriousness.  
  
She shakes her head. "I don't believe it."  
  
"I don't know what to believe right now."  
  
"You still believe in justice?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Truth?"  
  
I nod.  
  
"What about the Chaos Theory?"  
  
I manage a small smile, an honest smile. "Yeah."  
  
"All's not lost, Sam. All's never lost."  
  
"Seems it sometimes."  
  
"Yeah, well, who needs first impressions?"  
  
I smile even more, remembering our first encounter. "Not us..."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Still, Mal, just..." I turn and look at the headstone. "I let him down."  
  
She comes up to me, and gently puts her hand in mine. "So things didn't turn out exactly right this time... He didn't give up." She looks up at me. "Are you going to?"  
  
I take a while to answer, genuinely pondering my response. It'd be so easy. It'd be *so* easy to say the hell with *everything*.  
  
"Sam..."  
  
"Mm?"  
  
"You can't."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because it's not you. It's not who you are."  
  
As fast as I can climb A new disaster every time I turn around As soon as I get one fire put out There's another building burning down  
  
"Why isn't it?"  
  
"Because you're the guy who doesn't give up, no matter what it is that's asked of him. Elimination of the penny, clemency candidates, staffing the President in the Oval Office... That's you. That's who you are. Indomitable, my friend. Spirited. That's who you are."  
  
"Maybe I'm tired of it."  
  
She shakes her head. "I don't buy it. Not for a second. You argued with me about school vouchers when we had the same opinion."  
  
"You made an appointment..."  
  
"You don't give up."  
  
"I want to."  
  
"But you won't."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"Because I know you. You're having a bad night. You had a rough campaign. You're going to pick yourself back up and dust yourself off and you're going to go on. You're going to survive, Sam."  
  
"But, am I going to survive in politics? Y'know, I left this business once. I could very easily leave it again."  
  
She looks at me doubtfully. "Uh-huh. Sure. And do what? Bill out at six hundred bucks an hour protecting... big business?"  
  
I sigh. Yeah. That doesn't sound appealing whatsoever.  
  
"I'm not saying you have to be, y'know, optimistic tonight. You just can't give up."  
  
"Isn't that sort of the definition of optimism?"  
  
"For you, usually, but for tonight... there's always an exception to the rule."  
  
"I see," I say with a weak nod. "She says he'd be proud of me."  
  
"He would be. Dad is. The President is. Toby is. Josh is. C.J. is."  
  
"Will Bailey isn't."  
  
"Sam..."  
  
"He isn't. Well, I haven't talked to him, but I'm pretty sure he's not going to be at all happy with me."  
  
"He knows how rough this district is."  
  
They say this highway's going my way But I don't know where it's taking me It's a bad case, a sad race, a rat race It's breaking me  
  
I sigh slightly. I know he knows. And, deep down, I know she's right. "Yeah..."  
  
"So... How 'bout this, Skipper? How 'bout we go get hot fudge sundaes--I saw an ice cream parlor on my way in--and you can drown your sorrows in Rocky Road... and tomorrow you can show me everything Orange County has to offer."  
  
I nod.  
  
"We'll have fun."  
  
"How long are you staying?" I ask quietly as we start to make our way out of the cemetery.  
  
"Sunday morning. It's Spring Break for me."  
  
"And you came all the way out here?"  
  
"Aren't you supposed to hit the beach on Spring Break?"  
  
"I guess. It's just sort of... there for me. This is home."  
  
"Then show me your home this week?"  
  
I look at her and nod. "Yeah."  
  
"Things'll look up tomorrow."  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"And in your next campaign... I will be here for Election Day. And I expect a hug when you win."  
  
I get no traction 'cause I'm running on ice It's taking me twice as long I get a bad reaction 'cause I'm running on ice Where did my life go wrong?  
  
"When hell freezes over, you mean?"  
  
She shoots me another incredulous look. "When you win. When it's in the cards... and the stars..."  
  
"And tea leaves?"  
  
"It's destined, Sam."  
  
"If you say so."  
  
End... For now.  
  
Continued in This is the Time. 


End file.
